


truly, I ain't got no business here

by Marishna



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Beacon Hills Lacrosse Team, Betrayal, Bullying, Derek Has a Crush on Stiles, F/M, Hand Jobs, Lacrosse, M/M, Minor Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Minor Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes, Miscommunication, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Secrets, Self-Esteem Issues, Stiles Has a Crush on Derek, Twin Stiles, Werewolf royalty, high school party, jackson's a dick, stuart's kind of a dick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-13 21:17:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4537713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marishna/pseuds/Marishna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a teenager was difficult. Being a teenager around a bunch of supernatural beings who could pick up on almost your every waking feeling was impossible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "duality" for fullmoon_ficlet on LJ. I had an idea for an "heir and the spare" fic for a little while and never really wanted to ever write a fic with fanon creation Stuart Stilinski but here we are. I believe there will be a sequel to this, as well, but it works as a standalone.

"Pass to Stilinski! Stilinski's open! For the love of—Whittemore! _Pass to Stilinski!_ "

Jackson relented and threw to Stilinski who was wide open, spun around and made a headlong drive to the net, easily sidestepping the defence and swishing the ball into the net.

"YES! _That's_ how you do it! _That's it!_ " Coach Finstock screamed from the sidelines. He blew his whistle and the guys huddled up around him. "Gonna finish off with some drills. Break into groups, we're gonna rotate between defence and offence. Bilinski!"

Stiles looked up from where he was sitting on the bench doing his calc homework. 

"Get into net and work on your saves."

"Coach? Against both teams?" Stiles asked, trying not to sound as nervous as he felt. 

"Yes, Bilinski. It's tactical, keep your guard up," Finstock said quickly, then made a 'hurry up' motion with his hands. Stiles shoved his homework to the side, grabbed his helmet and stick and stood up for the first time all practice.

"They'll go easy, okay?" Stuart, his twin, said lowly as he took a drink.

"Easy for you to say. You're practically on the were's team, you're so good," Stiles hissed. "It would be nice if I could get called by the right name for once, you know."

"Coach does that so it's not confusing," Stuart replied smoothly but Stiles didn't have to be a werewolf to know he was lying. Coach simply didn't care, as long as Stuart kept up his game. Stiles was there to keep the bench warm.

"Are we keeping you from something important?" Finstock yelled from the field and Stiles sighed before shoving his helmet on. Stuart went to the other side of the field to work on defence while Stiles muttered a prayer to all the deities to let him make it home with all his limbs, preferably intact, at the end of the day.

He set up in the goal and crouched down, waiting for the onslaught. The first few were easier, coming from the human team. But then Jackson stepped up and grinned evilly at Stiles through his mask and he knew he was fucked.

Stiles grit his teeth and tried to keep his eyes trained on Jackson's hands and feet, watching where he was going versus where he was throwing but he ran in too close on purpose, making Stiles wince, and then Stiles felt the air get knocked out of him as the full impact of the ball made contact with his chest. He bent over on his knees, coughing and heaving in great gasps of air. Distantly he could hear someone tearing a strip off Jackson, who got snotty with his reply, of course, but he couldn't make out what was being said. The blood was rushing in his ears too loudly.

A minute or so later he stood upright again and grabbed his stick, bracing himself once again.

"You sure?" Danny called out, next in line. Stiles nodded and Danny lobbed a soft one at him, one he easily caught. 

Stiles wasn't that bad, actually, but being on the field with the weres was intimidating, to say the least, and Stiles worried constantly that they could hear his heart pounding or could smell the stink of his sweat or —fuck, maybe how he sometimes got hard in the locker room and escaped to the toilet stalls until everyone cleared out. 

Being a teenager was difficult. Being a teenager around a bunch of supernatural beings who could pick up on almost your every waking feeling was impossible.

He caught the next two from his human teammates, one from a were that he was sure was a throwaway, missed a human throw, caught one from a were. 

Scott stepped up next and Stiles relaxed a little because he knew Scott wouldn't go easy on him but he also wouldn't use his full werewolf strength and he could anticipate any strategic maneuvering Scott might try. He nodded at Scott, Scott nodded back and started his approach.

Stiles knew the instant things were going to go sideways on him because out of the corner of his eye he saw Lydia and Allison sit down in the benches and Scott's attention was gone for a split second. But that's all he needed.

His throw went wild, off aim entirely and the ball hit Stiles in the neck, right under the helmet. Stiles dropped to the ground, writhing in pain and fought the waves of nausea and blackness that pulled at him.

Both teams ran to the goal and crowded around. Someone dropped to their knees beside him, and he knew it was a werewolf because they started leaching the pain right away. Stiles couldn't tell who it was because there were spots blurring his vision and he was seeing the most violent colours while groaning out creative strings of curses.

"Back up, back up!" Finstock said as he pushed through the group. He made whoever was helping him move away and Stiles whimpered, almost reached out for them to bring them back because holy _fuck_ that hurt.

"Stiles, I'm so sorry. I'm _so sorry_ ," Scott babbled, standing helplessly in front of him, cracking the plastic of his helmet from the force of his grip.

"S'okay, Scotty," Stiles said in a gravelly tone, then scrunched up his face from the pain.

"Practice is over, hit the showers! Bilinski, walk it off, okay?" Finstock said and Stiles wanted to grumble under his breath but it hurt too much to make any noise. Scott rushed forward and helped him up, kept an arm around him while they walked to the bench. Stiles looked back to see Stuart talking with Derek Hale, captain of the were's side of the team.

"Figures," Stiles whispered, partly to keep quiet and partly because it didn't hurt as much.

"What?" Scott asked, making Stiles sit while he grabbed Stiles' homework that was previously abandoned.

"Stu. Probably making plans with Derek for his big debut on your side of the team," Stiles said while jerking his head across the field.

"If that happens doesn't that mean you can quit?" Scott asked. Stiles saw Derek's head snap up in their direction, like he was listening for something and totally ignoring Stuart. Stiles felt a sick thrill at that idea. "You've always said you only did this because he wanted someone on the human's team with him and if he switches you're off the hook, right?" 

"I guess," Stiles whispered. "Would have been nice to get to play an actual game before we graduate though, you know?"

Scott sighed. "Your dad's not going to care if you quit."

Stiles nodded and started walking with Scott back to the school to shower. "Hey, do you know who was taking my pain before Finstock rudely made them leave?"

"Hale," Scott replied absently, trying to shove Stiles' books into his book bag for him. Stiles frowned, and then gingerly turned his head to look back at Derek with doubt.

Derek Hale stepped up to take his pain? The area Alpha's son and the closest thing to werewolf royalty simply by existing? Yeah right.

***

By Friday Stiles' neck was an angry purple and it hurt to turn his head too far. It got him out of doing anything but sitting on the bench at practice so that was something.

Stiles sighed wearily as he and Stuart walked into school Friday morning. Stuart threw his arm around his twin's shoulder companionably and Stiles gritted his teeth from the shocks of pain that ran down his neck when Stu bumped his bruise.

"Maybe you could pass it off as a really big hickey?" Stuart suggested as he guided them to their lockers, which just happened to be where Jackson's locker was and he was surrounded by Lydia, Danny, Derek and a few other players from the team.

"Who would believe 'Bilinski' got someone to give him a hickey?" Jackson laughed, and Stiles closed his eyes while sighing quietly. "It looks more like you tried to use a vacuum!"

Jackson laughed hysterically at his own joke while Lydia smirked. Danny looked uncomfortable while the other guys laughed with Jackson. Stu even chuckled a little and Stiles shrugged his arm off and crossed the hall to his locker, messing up the combination twice before getting it open.

"Wouldn't be much different than when you were fourteen and weren't bitten yet, huh? Didn't you practice giving hickeys on your own arm and then wore makeup for two weeks until the bruises went away, Jackson?" Derek announced casually but loud enough for most of the hallway to overhear. 

The giggling started instantly and everyone stared at Jackson whose face got pinched and his eyes flashed yellow at Derek angrily. "Fuck you, Hale!" He grabbed Lydia's hand and stormed off so fast she had to jog to keep up.

Stiles watched him leave, biting down on a grin. When he turned back he caught eyes with Derek who nodded and then sauntered off down the hall in the opposite direction as Jackson.

"Uh, what was that?" Stuart asked.

"I have no idea," Stiles replied, shaking his head. "But it was _awesome_."

***

Stiles and Stuart weren't twins who were joined at the hip. Before their mother passed away when they were younger she embraced them for their differences and never made them do the identical clothes thing. Stiles buzzed his head for a while and Stuart tried the douchey Beiber swoop for longer than he cared to admit. Stiles didn't mind wearing his thick framed glasses but Stuart insisted on contacts all the time. Stuart got the athletic ability and Stiles liked figuring out mysteries and following intricately plotted thrillers.

Stuart was popular, legitimately, and Stiles was not. It was okay that way between them because Stiles got Scott, Isaac, Erica and Boyd and Stuart got basically both the human and werewolf lacrosse teams but they were at least half comprised of dicks like Jackson. Stiles counts that as a win in his column.

If it were a contest, that is.

Stiles slid his tray along the counter in the lunch line, wrinkling his nose at the day's offerings. Mac and cheese? More like chunks and hurl. He grabbed an apple and cookie to go with it and slid to the cashier who rang him through with all the enthusiasm of a stoner staring at a wall.

He grabbed his tray and started to walk across the cafeteria to his usual table but he was intercepted by Lydia who stared at him with a calculating look. Stiles' eyes shifted back and forth, looking for someone else because she wasn't here for _him_ , right?

"You're going to the party at Hale's on Friday, right," Lydia stated, rather than asked.

Stiles blinked. "No?"

"You're on the lacrosse team."

"I warm the bench."

"But you still have a name and number on a jersey so that counts."

"Okay?" Stiles was so confused.

"You're going."

"No."

"You have to," Lydia snapped impatiently. "Here's the deal. My best friend has a thing for _your_ best friend, which I do not, under any circumstances understand, but she wants him at the party and you're going to make sure he gets there."

Stiles snorted. "You think Scott's going to show up at a party at the _Hale's_? Not gonna happen."

Lydia pointed a perfectly-manicured finger at Stiles and pushed it into Stiles' chest, forcing him to back up until he was pinned against the wall and just this side of terrified. 

"That's why _you_ are going to make sure he gets there. I don't care how or why or what you have to do but he's got to get there. Got it?" Lydia said plainly but the hint of a threat was in her voice.

Stiles swallowed hard. "I'll see what I can do."

Lydia smiled. "That's better. Enjoy your," she looked down at Stiles' tray and wrinkled her nose. "Lunch."

Lydia spun on her heels and left Stiles in the middle of the cafeteria wondering what the hell just happened.

***

The Hales were the governing pack in town, one of the most well-regarded and powerful packs in the state, if not the country. Most of the local werewolves belonged to their pack but there were a few exceptions. Students at the college from out of town, or ones that were last members of former packs that went back as far as the settlement of the area, who had grandfathered clauses with the Hales. And then there was Scott, who was one of maybe three omegas in the area who refused to join with the Hales.

Scott was turned by Peter Hale, who had an issue with his sister being alpha. He left town and murdered another alpha to claim their power, then returned and for more than a month laid siege to the town in an attempt to build a pack of his own. He bit Scott and Jackson both without permission, but ended up mostly just killing people at random.

He was brought down by a hunter, shot with an arrow through the heart by Allison's father, and then Talia Hale ripped her own brother's throat to shreds. He was burned and his remains buried with ropes of wolfsbane deep in the woods on Hale land.

Scott didn't react well, to say the least. Talia tried to approach him and offer her support but Scott refused. Her daughter Laura, who would be the next alpha, was only a few years ahead of them in school and also tried with Scott but he politely told her to fuck off, which made her laugh, oddly enough.

Derek didn't say anything to Scott outside of school or lacrosse-related things but Scott was still on guard. Derek wasn't going to be alpha, he had no concern if Scott joined the pack or not but Scott didn't trust him and, in solidarity, Stiles wasn't supposed to either.

Didn't stop him from thinking about him in the safety of his own room at night, under the covers, though.

Derek Hale was Stiles' idea of a walking wet dream. Literally. He had a recurring fantasy of Derek walking through the locker room towards him, wet from the shower, pressing him against the lockers and kissing him until he couldn't feel his face any longer. 

He felt guilty about his crush when his best friend was so against the guy and his whole family but the dick wants what the dick wants. And Derek was never anything but distant to him personally.

Although the way he put Jackson in his place earlier that day and was the first to his side when he was injured were definitely new in their acquaintenceship.

Now if only Scott could see it the same way.

***

"So... Friday!" Stiles said as he sat down at their usual table. Scott gave him a weird look but Isaac, Erica and Boyd all nodded. They were part of the Hale pack, had been for a couple years. They had an understanding that they wouldn't talk about Scott joining and Scott wouldn't talk poorly about any of the Hales.

"What about it?" Scott asked warily.

"There's a party," Stiles started slowly. Scott nodded. "For the lacrosse teams."

Scott's expression shifted and he pursed his lips. "And?"

"It's at Derek's."

"No."

"Your presence has been requested!" Stiles said quickly.

"No!"

"By Allison."

Erica, Boyd and Isaac had been watching their exchange like tennis volleys and now they stopped on Scott and waited. Scott's face reflected the war within himself as he worked through his line in the sand with the Hales versus his crush on Allison.

"She wants me there?" Scott asked cautiously.

"I was basically just threatened by Lydia Martin to make sure you get there," Stiles replied, rubbing his chest where she poked him.

"You've gotta go too, man," Scott said and Stiles groaned. He opened his mouth to protest but Scott clapped a hand over his mouth. "You want me to go, you have to come with me."

"We'll be there, too," Isaac piped up. Stiles grumbled but nodded and Scott dropped his hand.

"Fine, fine. We'll watch each other's backs."

"Absolutely," Scott replied and he tentatively smiled.

***

All it took was one dimpled smile and a hair flip from Allison and Scott dropped Stiles like a hot potato to follow her to the beer pong table. 

Stiles spotted Erica and Boyd making out in another room and Isaac was in a conversation with Cora Hale, who was a couple years younger than they were. Stiles didn't particularly feel like interrupting either couple and being a third wheel.

He hovered by the doorway in the massive living room at the Hale house (mansion? What qualified a house as a mansion? The whole property was more like an estate. Might as well be a damn palace, really), and clutched at his beer. 

The Hales knew exactly what kind of party this was going to be and took car keys at the door in exchange for a free cab ride home. His dad expected Stuart to be at the party, he was always out doing something with the lacrosse team but when Stiles started to follow him out the door the Sheriff was surprised. Frowned and told him to be safe and smart.

So here he was, standing awkwardly in a room with people who knew him as the benchwarmer for the human team, Stuart's brother, or didn't have two clues who he was. Perfect.

Stiles heard loud laughter, sounded like Stuart actually, and Jackson's unmistakable entitled tone coming closer so Stiles looked around and crossed the room, slipping out another door into the dining room. There were a few people in there but Stiles did know anyone and kept going. Through the kitchen where a group of his classmates were doing dual keg stands, one with regular beer for humans and one with a wolfsbane infused beer for the werewolves. 

Stiles bypassed the crowd and slipped out a sliding door, stepping out onto a darkened back patio. There was no light but what cast through the glass and it was blissfully quiet outside, something Stiles didn't realize until he closed out the constant buzz from the party.

He could make out some outdoor furniture and happily sank into the closest lounger, sighing.

He closed his eyes and contemplated walking home or maybe just curling up right here for the rest of the night when someone cleared their throat in the darkness.

Stiles yelped and sat up quickly, spilling his beer on himself. "Who's there?" he demanded.

There was a flicker from a lighter and then the soft light from a candle flared to life on a table beside the lounger. As the flame grew it cast a glow onto the face of someone in the lounger beside Stiles—Derek Hale.

"Oh, uh. Sorry, I'll go," Stiles said hastily and started to roll off the lounger. Derek reached out and grabbed his arm lightly, halting him.

"No, it's okay. I'm hiding, too," Derek said quietly, voice far softer than Stiles expected.

He removed his hand and Stiles settled back into the chair, shifting to look at Derek easier. 

"What are you hiding from?" Stiles asked.

"Everyone in there," Derek nodded to the house.

"You know you invited them, right?" Stiles asked dryly.

"Sort of. Jackson was going to have it at his place but his father was still pissed about the last party he threw. My mom overheard him talking and offered to have it here. I didn't really have a choice," Derek explained.

"They're your friends," Stiles argued.

"They're teammates," Derek replied.

"That you spend time with off the field. Pretty sure that means they're friends," Stiles pressed.

"So we're friends?" Derek threw back, lips turning up in a smile.

"We don't spent time together off the field," Stiles said flatly.

"We are right now."

"Point. So we're friends?" Stiles asked dubiously.

Derek shrugged. "If you want," he said easily. 

"I'm nothing like my brother, you know," Stiles said, starting to feel desperate. This was not how he expected this night to go, and certainly not a conversation he thought he'd _ever_ be having with Derek Hale.

"I know," Derek replied, a little too forcefully. Stiles tilted his head curiously, automatically. Derek's cheeks got red and he picked at a fray in the leg of his jeans. "I just mean that he's really, uh. And you're—um."

"He's cool and I'm not," Stiles said quietly, looking down.

Derek surged forward, almost coming off the edge of the lounger. "No! That's not what I meant at all!"

"What _did_ you mean?"

"He's loud. He's cocky and knows how good he is on the field. He can be a dick sometimes," Derek said, all in a rush. "And I'm sorry, I know he's your brother and you prob—"

"No, you're right," Stiles cut in. "He's my twin and we might be closer than some family, I don't know, but you're right. He's a _giant_ dick sometimes."

Derek seemed to let out a breath and he relaxed a little, relief evident on his face. "You two are so different."

Stiles nodded and frowned. "Yeah, we are. A regular yin and yang." Derek reached out and awkwardly put his hand on Stiles' leg. Stiles appreciated the gesture, as weird as it was to be this close to Derek.

Stiles opened his mouth, hesitated, then closed it. 

Derek cocked his head. "You can say whatever you want."

Stiles nodded. "When I was younger I didn't get why Stu and I weren't close like twins were in the movies or on TV, you know? We're two halves of one whole, identical in every way, but we never seemed to fit otherwise. After my mom died... I always felt like I clicked more with her and Stu with dad. So when she passed I felt kind of alone. I tried to figure out, I don't know, I guess the reason _why_ Stu and I are so different. Got into theories of duality and read papers on twin studies and watched all the twin movies I could get my hands on, good and bad," Stiles laughed. Derek's hand tightened on his leg and he smiled back at Stiles.

"Turns out Stuart's who he is and I'm who I am. And sometimes that means he's a dick and I'm a nerd. Or sometimes he's actually pretty thoughtful and I'm a sarcastic asshole," Stiles said with a shrug. He went quiet and looked down at Derek's hand. He was stroking his thumb absently over Stiles' knee. When Derek realized Stiles was looking he jerked his hand back.

There was an awkward moment of silence but then Derek started talking haltingly. "I'm not a twin, obviously, but I get feeling so different from your family. You know that phrase people use when they talk about royal families? 'The heir and the spare'?" Stiles nodded. "I'm the spare. Not the only one now but if something happened that Laura got sick or was killed or something I would be the next in line and would ensure my family's power would stay with my family. The stuff with—with Peter. It, uh. It made things really tense and we were all on guard, wondering if my mom would be killed, or if Laura would turn up dead..."

"Harsh," Stiles said softly.

"It wasn't the best time," Derek said obviously. "I was kind of pissed about the whole situation. That Peter was crazy and killing people, that my family was a target and people were gossiping about us more than normal, so many things. But most of all I was pissed that all of a sudden people were paying attention to me."

"Didn't you have a guard following you at school around that time?" Stiles asked, memory a little foggy since it overlapped with Scott getting bitten and Stiles' attention clearly being elsewhere.

Derek groaned. "Yeah. Such a pain in the ass. It's not like the dude cramped my style or anything—" Stiles snorted at that and Derek shot him a quick glare with little heat behind it. "But it felt like suddenly I was _important_ and like before everything started happening like I was only getting half the attention I could've been getting. Not that I wanted my parents to be so involved in my life but Laura was always the one with the eyes on her and suddenly I had that. When Peter was killed and everything went back to normal I went back to being... invisible, it felt like."

Stiles leaned forward, staring into Derek's eyes. His impossibly beautiful, indescribable eyes. "Derek, you are _anything_ but invisible. I promise."

Derek ducked his head but not before Stiles caught his cheeks pinking. "You've never noticed me before now," he mumbled into his chest.

This time Stiles reached his hand out but he tipped Derek's head back up to look him in the eyes again. "You just haven't been watching close enough."

"I watch you all the time," Derek admitted in a whisper. Stiles leaned in, and Derek's eyes slipped half closed in anticipation. Stiles could feel the warmth from Derek's body and he slid his hand up Derek's jaw to tilt his head—

And then Derek pulled back quickly, grabbed the candle and blew it out, then wrapped a hand around Stiles' mouth. Stiles made a muffled sound, his heart rate spiking but Derek shushed him. The the patio door slid open and Stuart stuck his head outside.

"Stiles? You out here?" Derek kept his hand over Stiles' mouth and waited until Stuart closed the door again before letting him go.

"Thought maybe I read that wrong," Stiles said tentatively. Derek smiled and shook his head.

"Didn't want to share this moment," Derek said quietly. He moved to Stiles' lounger and cupped his face with both hands before kissing him gently. Stiles put his hands on Derek's upper arms and kissed him back, half afraid that at any second this was going to turn out to be a sick joke.

"Stop thinking so much," Derek whispered against Stiles' lips.

Stiles bit Derek's lower lip lightly and smiled. "Make me."


	2. And I know you mean only the best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s not that Stiles _wanted_ to keep this thing from his best friend. But with the way Scott hated the Hales and wanted nothing to do with them, coupled with not having very much one-on-one time, it all added up to a growing Bad Situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for prompt #135 - Stark at fullmoon_ficlet on LJ.

"Does Scott know yet?" Derek asked, sprawled out on Stiles’ bed with a textbook in front of him while Stiles sat in his desk chair, a forced space between them to make sure they got _something_ done that afternoon.

Stiles sighed and shook his head. Derek made a sound and Stiles groaned, knowing exactly what Derek meant without words.

It wasn’t hard for Stiles to hide his burgeoning relationship with Derek from Scott. Scott was undeniably head over heels for Allison Argent and spent every free moment he had hanging on her every word. If he noticed that Stiles smelled more and more like Derek he either didn’t care or was too pre-occupied to mention it.

"You’re not—you don’t. Um." Derek cut himself off and pressed his lips together, staring down at his book with furrowed brows.

"What?" Stiles asked. He learned quickly that their talk at his party wasn’t the norm for Derek. He liked to use action instead of words, gestures instead of empty platitudes. It wasn’t that he _didn’t_ talk but sometimes Stiles had to dance around things or work it out of him before Derek would say what he meant or was thinking. He was used to keeping things to himself while Stiles rambled to himself even if there was no one around to listen.

"Nothing."

"Obviously not," Stiles pressed. Derek looked up at Stiles and noticed his expression, the one Stiles used to say, 'I’ll keep asking until you tell me.’

"You’re not uh... ashamed or something, right?"

Stiles blinked then scrunched his face up, confused. "Of what?"

"Me."

Stiles blinked again, then his eyes went wide. "Are you for real?"

Derek let out a frustrated sound and pushed himself up to his knees on the bed, looking like he was going to flee. Stiles was out of his chair in seconds and pinning Derek on his back, despite that he could fling Stiles away with probably a flick of his finger. 

"Clearly we both have some self-esteem issues to work through," Stiles started. "But under no circumstances am I ashamed of you, ever. I promise."

Stiles spoke emphatically, pressing Derek down with every word as if trying to push the words into his body so he would believe them. Derek was quiet for a second, playing with a fray in the sleeve of Stiles’ hoodie, then he looked up.

"Really?"

Stiles shook his head. "Nuh-uh, you know I’m telling the truth. Now you’re just fishing."

"You’re too smart for your own good," Derek threw back, but he was grinning.

"Sometimes. Got you here, didn’t I?" Stiles asked with his own wolfish grin, then ducked and kissed Derek soundly, slipping his tongue into Derek’s mouth when he gasped at Stiles’ quick maneuver.

They made out lazily, Derek’s fingers hooked into Stiles’ belt loops while Stiles scratched his nails over Derek’s scalp so that Derek arched up against him every few minutes, groaning into Stiles’ mouth. Stiles would never have expected it but Derek seemed to like the tame making out more than Stiles did. These quiet moments were just for them and Stiles loved that he knew this side of Derek Hale who, just weeks ago he figured, barely knew his name.

"Stiles, do you have the notes for— whoa!"

Stuart barged into the room without knocking and Stiles flailed a bit, almost rolling off Derek and his bed. Derek caught him and pushed Stiles back on his knees while he sat up against the headboard. They both looked over at Stuart with matching frowns, Derek’s a little darker than Stiles’.

"Wow, wasn’t expecting... this," Stuart said with a laugh, gesturing between the two of them. "Good on you, little brother."

Stuart was gone before Stiles could yell at him or tell him off, closing the door just as quickly as he arrived. Stiles covered his face with his hands and groaned loudly. "What a fucking asshole."

"Sorry I didn’t hear him," Derek said, sounding regretful. "But it’s probably best he came in when he did. I have to get home."

Stiles looked over at the clock and sighed at seeing how late in the evening was. "Guess I should start dinner and suffer through the knowing looks Stu’s gonna give me the whole time."

"Want me to beat him up?" Derek asked, and Stiles was pretty sure he was only half joking.

"Not yet. I’ll keep that card in my back pocket for now," Stiles replied, then leaned forward and kissed Derek softly. "That’s one of the best offers I’ve ever gotten, though."

"You’re so weird," Derek said softly, fondly.

Stiles grinned because Derek _got_ him. "Yeah."

***

It’s not that Stiles _wanted_ to keep this thing from his best friend. But with the way Scott hated the Hales and wanted nothing to do with them, coupled with not having very much one-on-one time, it all added up to a growing Bad Situation. It wasn’t a conversation Stiles wanted to have over the phone or by text or Skype and he couldn’t very well blurt it out while they passed each other in the hall or had five minutes of overlapping lunch time.

Sties planned to ask Scott to hang out for a guys night and he’d tell him then. Order a meat lovers pizza on a night both Stu and his dad were out and he’d tell him in a mature, well thought out way. Possibly with powerpoint and graphs. He was still working on that part.

But seventeen-and-a-half years earlier Stiles was born with a twin brother named Stuart and he was clearly sent to make Stiles’ life a living hell.

Stiles was in a scrimmage with his human teammates at one end of the lacrosse field while the weres did their thing on the other. Stiles was busy concentrating on holding the defensive line from the attackers and they seemed to be doing okay so far. 

But then Stiles heard hoots and playful howls from the other group commingled with Stuart laughing. Then Derek calling out, "Scott, stop! Wait a second!" 

Scott stormed off the field and Stiles’ stomach dropped. 

He abandoned his position, barely missing Danny who was approaching to attack and made a beeline for Scott who was angrily tossing his gear off as he walked toward the school. Finstock was yelling his head off from midfield, calling both Stiles and Scott back to practice but they both ignored him.

"Scott, stop!" Stiles yelled.

"How long have you been keeping this from me?" Scott demand, whirling around on Stiles. His hands were clenched into fists and Stiles knew he was hiding claws that were threatening to pop. His eyes were still normal but his teeth looked a little pointier than usual.

"Just a few weeks—"

"A few _weeks_?" 

"The night of the party when you started with Allison, that same night!" Stiles replied. "It just ... happened."

" _Happened_? You getting with _Derek Hale_ doesn’t just _happen_ ," Scott threw back and Stiles winced, felt the sting of that one.

"I know you didn’t mean that the way it sounded," Stiles said quietly and Scott seemed to edge back, get smaller from where he’d puffed himself up. "It’s not like we’ve spent much time together lately," Stiles continued. "And I wanted to tell you but, considering your reaction, it wasn’t something I wanted to throw at you without time to talk about it."

"He’s a dick," Scott grumbled, casting his eyes to the ground.

"I’m not going to try to change your mind right now but you’re wrong. You know I wouldn’t like a guy who was a dick."

"Yes, you would," Scott replied, rolling his eyes, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

"Theo," they both said at the same time.

"Okay, you got me there," Stiles conceded. "But I promise you, he’s not ... he’s different than you think, okay?"

"I don’t know, man," Scott said, shaking his head. "Give me a couple days? Can we get together this weekend?"

Stiles smiled. "I was already planning on ordering the meat lovers."

Scott nodded and Stiles watched him walk back to the school. He kicked at the grass for a few minutes, the sound of the teams on the field falling to the back of his mind, and he got lost in his thoughts until someone tapped him tentatively on the shoulder.

He turned around and Derek was watching him, worry in his eyes, even if it didn’t make it to his otherwise blank expression. "You okay?"

Stiles nodded. "Yeah. He took it... better than I thought, actually. What happened? Why did you say anything?"

Derek glared over his shoulder. "I didn’t."

"Oh, fuck," Stiles groaned. "Stuart, seriously? What the hell?"

"Jackson was saying shit, I don’t know. Stuart decided to add his two cents and before I knew it he was announcing that he caught us making out and Scott looked like he was going to tear my face off. If I were in his position I can’t blame him, either."

"Fucking Stuart," Stiles grumbled. Derek stepped up to him hesitantly and Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck without a second thought, sighing into Derek’s sweaty neck. Derek relaxed and hugged him back. "At least now it’s out."

"Yeah," Derek agreed softly. 

They both ignored Finstock yelling at them to quit making out and get back on the field.

***

"Come on, I’m not taking you to a satan worshipping ceremony! It’s dinner at the Hales! And we were both invited, okay?" Stiles pleaded with Scott.

It was a month after Scott found out about Stiles and Derek. He came around, grudgingly, and was able to have civil conversations with Derek in Stiles’ presence. It was like being on the lacrosse field but in the cafeteria or library or at Stiles’ place. 

Their interactions progressed from stilted conversations held through Stiles to actually being able to speak with each other without growling (on Scott’s part) and baring teeth (Derek). Stiles figured now was as good a time as any.

"It’s just dinner, Scott, I promise. No one in that house wants to revisit what happened with Peter and especially not with someone Peter did something _to_."

"Why am I even invited?" Scott asked, arms crossed defensively as he stood in front of the window in Stiles’ room, as if ensuring an easy getaway.

"Because I’m important to Derek," Stiles replied.

"And I’m...?"

"You’re important to me, Scotty," Stiles replied and Scott couldn’t help the sheepish grin that broke out, unbidden, across his face. 

It faded quickly, though. "I’m taking my own bike so I can leave if I want. And I want to sit by you."

Stiles shrugged. "Of course. You’ll see it’s not what you think, man."

***

It was awkward.

For about three minutes.

Scott followed Stiles' Jeep on his bike and left his helmet with a longing look back, as if he thought he would need it for whatever was coming. Stiles rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything. Getting Scott here after everything was a miracle in itself.

They climbed the stairs and Stiles didn’t bother knocking, just let himself into the house which Scott seemed taken aback by. 

Stiles shrugged as he toed his shoes off. "It’s not like they weren’t expecting me or couldn't hear me coming up the drive," he explained. Scott followed suit and trailed after Stiles who was comfortable in the Hale home and walked into the kitchen where Talia was putting things together for dinner.

"Stiles! Come on in and grab a spoon, I need someone to stir this sauce," she called out. Stiles reached around her for the utensils drawer to grab one and did as he was told, jerking his head for Scott to come in as well. Scott did tentatively, eyes on the back of Talia’s head like he expected her to reach out and grab him to suck the marrow from his bones when he was least expecting.

"So you’re Scott," Talia said, keeping her back to him while she mixed some kind of meat in a bowl with spices and other things Stiles couldn’t really see.

"Yes, ma’am," Scott replied, his wolf still respectful of the pack alpha and area leader. He cast his eyes to the floor and didn’t say anything else.

"You’d think he was scared or something," Talia joked, elbowing Stiles in the ribs and grinning at him. 

Scott let out a sound behind them, kind of like a strangled choking, but Talia turned around with a warm smile while she wiped her hands on a dishtowel.

"I’m joking, Scott. Welcome to our home. I couldn’t resist," Talia explained, extending her hand to Scott without approaching him. He eyed it warily but when Stiles rolled his eyes Scott stepped forward and accepted her offering.

Stiles felt Scott relax, however minutely and breathed a sigh of relief to himself. 

"So, Scott. How are you at making pasta?" Talia asked, turning back to her mixture.

"I don’t know, I’ve never tried."

"Never a better time, then! Come here, this is a two-person job," Talia said, stepping to the side enough for Scott to get to the counter with her. 

 Stiles stayed back and watched how Talia guided him through making stuffed cannelloni. Any that were ruined were either used as a base for the dish or surreptitiously eaten by the three of them to the point Stiles was worried he wasn’t going to be hungry for the meal.

Derek must have been listening like a hawk because he crept down the stairs and peeked around the corner into the kitchen, waiting to catch Stiles’ eye for the all clear. Stiles grinned and Derek finally greeted him, kissing him softly before Cora started making gagging noises from behind them. Derek kicked at her playfully and they fell into the living room together, roughhousing. 

"Do you have any brothers or sisters, Scott?" Talia asked. Scott shook his head. "Only child."

Talia closed her eyes for a second, heard a muffled crash from the living room, and sighed. "Oh, if only."

Stiles snorted and Scott chuckled and they made dinner together. An alpha, an omega, and a human.

***

When Stiles got home Stuart was in Stiles' room sitting on his bed, flipping through some random comics he had laying around. Stiles was in too good a mood to question why Stuart was hanging around home instead of being out with his lacrosse cronies.

"How’d it go tonight?" he asked as Stiles tossed his jacket over his desk chair and collapsed into it.

"Awesome. I don’t think I’ll be able to eat for three days. Homemade cannelloni, garlic cheese bread, caesar salad and homemade cheesecake for dessert," Stiles said, groaning at the memory of it. 

Dinner itself was loud and raucous and vibrant. Scott was just another body around the table, or so it came off. Stiles knew everyone was insanely curious about him and he could tell Laura was bursting at the seams to ask him all sorts of questions but between Stiles, Derek and Talia they’d all laid down strict ground rules for when or if Scott ever showed up.

And they worked. 

Cora drew him into a conversation about his motorbike because she was looking into getting one when she got her licence (which drew a very unimpressed look from both of her parents), Derek’s dad Todd asked about Scott’s job with Dr. Deaton and if he wanted to pursue veterinary school when he was done high school, and Laura requested Scott to "body check the shit" out of Derek next time they were on the field.

Scott definitely left dinner with a better impression of the Hales and Stiles left feeling like he might be able to have nice things in his life.

"And Scott?" Stuart asked.

Stiles shrugged. "Went well. We’ll see where things go from here."

Stuart was quiet for a long moment. "Good. Glad to hear it."

He left Stiles’ room and went to his own, shutting the door behind him.

Stiles thought something was weird but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He shrugged, too full to care. "Whatever."

***

"Think we can stay up here all night?" Derek whispered against Stiles’ neck, dragging his lips across the sensitive skin there before nipping at his earlobe. They were standing at the open double doors in his room, looking outside into the unseasonably warm night for December.

Stiles bit back a moan and grabbed behind him at Derek’s hips to pull them tighter against his ass. "I —oh god— doubt it."

"There are places in this house no one would ever think to look for us," Derek pressed, grinding his erection against Stiles who dropped his head back on Derek’s shoulder and let out a breathy gasp.

"Don’t tempt me," Stiles whispered back.

"That’s exactly what I’m trying to do," Derek laughed as he worked a hand to the front of Stiles’ dress pants, working the belt open with one hand. Stiles reached back and awkwardly did the same for Derek, but slower and clumsier. Derek didn’t seem to care. 

Stiles shoved Derek’s pants open and down blindly, trying to work his boxer briefs down so he could pull out Derek’s hard cock. Once it was out he licked a stripe up the palm of his hand and wrapped it around Derek who buried his face in Stiles’ neck.

Derek’s fingers were a bit slower as he followed Stiles’ lead and pulled him out of his pants and worked his precome over the head of his cock, using both hands to stroke gently, working him to full length.

Stiles, well aware of the keen hearing of just about every single person a floor below tried to keep his voice down but Derek was incredibly talented when it came to knowing exactly how to wring those noises out of him and didn’t want him to hold back. When he got too frustrated with Stiles biting down on his lip to keep quiet he spun Stiles around and kissed him hard, wrapping his hands around both of their cocks and stroking them together.

Stiles moaned and grunted into Derek’s mouth and he swallowed all the sounds greedily like he lived for them. Derek pulled back and offered one hand to Stiles while the other kept working around them. Stiles sucked and licked at Derek’s fingers, while staring into his eyes, until Derek yanked his hand back and put it back around their cocks, working earnestly.

Stiles gripped at Derek’s suit jacket that probably cost more than Stiles’ entire wardrobe, and held it hard enough to leave wrinkles. Derek tugged at Stiles’ shirt collar with his teeth until he had room to lick at suck at Stiles’ collarbone, surely leaving a mark there that would follow him well into next year. 

Stiles felt his body get incredibly warm and his hips stutter up into Derek’s hands. Before he came he whispered to Derek, "I wish I could mark you the same way."

Derek let out a groan that sounded more wounded than aroused and came all over his hands and Stiles’ dick, and that’s all it took for Stiles to follow into the abyss with him.

The next thing Stiles knew he was cradled between Derek’s legs on the floor and Derek was licking his hands off. That made Stiles’ cock twitch pathetically between his legs and he let out a satisfied hum.

"Good way to ring in the new year?" Derek asked, voice rumbling pleasantly in Stiles’ ear.

"The best," Stiles replied, sated and bonelessly relaxed.

"Awesome," Derek replied, pressing a kiss to the back of Stiles’ neck. They sat in silence for a few minutes, coming down and listening to the faint sounds of the party going on below. 

"We have to go down soon, don’t we?" Stiles asked.

"Yeah, I suppose. People are probably noticing we’re not around," Derek replied with a regretful tone.

Stiles stretched, then looked down at himself. "Uh, don’t suppose you have some pants I could borrow?"

Derek hugged him closer and chuckled, filling Stiles with happiness as bright as that damn ball in Times Square.

***

The next morning Stiles woke with his face smushed into the couch cushions while Derek’s hard chest pressed into his back. He remembered finally passing out around 3am with Erica, Boyd, Isaac, Scott and Allison after watching movies in the Hale media room. 

He poked his head up and looked around the room, surprised to see Jackson sacked out in a chair across the room but no Lydia in sight. He shrugged to himself and worked on getting off the couch without waking Derek up. 

He pissed and splashed some water on his face before trudging up the stairs to the kitchen where Laura was already up with a pot of coffee brewing. She passed him over a mug the exact way he liked and he accepted it gratefully.

"You’re a true goddess, you know that?" Stiles mumbled while sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar.

"God I love having you around, Stiles," Laura laughed. She was quiet for a second and then seemed to get serious, something Stiles rarely saw from her, at least in Derek’s presence. "Thanks, by the way."

"For what?" Stiles asked, sipping his coffee.

"For whatever it is you did for Derek. I know things weren’t easy for him after... well, it wasn’t easy for any of us, but I think it hit him really hard. Peter always took Derek under his wing since I’m first born, you know? Peter paid attention to Derek and was there when my parents were preoccupied with other things."

"I didn’t know that," Stiles said softly. He felt weird talking about this with Laura but appreciated knowing a little more what made Derek tick.

"He would have told you eventually, I’m sure. He talks to you more than anyone else these days. Thanks for bringing back the Derek we used to know," Laura said with complete sincerity and Stiles shifted in his seat a little.

"I didn’t do anything, really."

Laura rolled her eyes. "Okay, then thank you for Scott. It feels better knowing he’s with the pack now."

"What?" Stiles was confused.

"Scott joining the pack," Laura repeated.

"Uh..." Stiles grunted as Scott piped up from behind them, "I didn’t."

Stiles and Laura both wheeled around and Scott was standing at the top of the stairs to the media room, eyes bright yellow and his claws out. His chest was heaving, trying to keep the rage under control.

"Scotty—"

  "Shut up! I knew this was all a trick!"

"Scott, no! I don’t know what’s going on, either," Stiles protested, hopping off his stool. 

The raised voices and unease in the house must have woken everyone in a hurry because everyone from the media room was herding up the stairs, sounding like a stampede. Scott was already on his way to the front door. 

 Derek tried to intercept him but Scott shoved him away. "I should have known you didn’t give two shits about being my friend! You just wanted me to join your stupid pack!"

Derek opened his mouth to argue, to protest. Stiles watched him get ready and then ... stop. He backed down and shrugged. "I can’t say I didn’t."

Stiles’ mouth dropped open and felt like he’d been slapped. "But—"

"It all makes sense now!" Jackson crowed.

Everyone turned to look at him, varying expressions of incredulity to confusion across their faces.

"Why in the hell would Hale ever get with Stilinski otherwise?" Jackson said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

And there it was; in the stark light of day it all made perfect sense. 

Why _was_ Derek with Stiles? He told him all about how he felt when Peter went off and started killing people, how he was suddenly the centre of attention in case he somehow got to Laura. How people paid attention to him. And now Laura let him know that Peter was possibly the closest person to him in his family and now he didn’t have any of that because Laura was safe and would be the next alpha.

Scott joining, finally taking his place in the Hale pack hierarchy would be the cherry on the sundae for Derek to be someone in his family.

"Fuck," Stiles whispered to himself. He could see Derek crossing the room to him but Stiles was already dodging out of the way and following Scott to the door. Everyone erupted into arguing and snarls, mostly at Jackson, but it was chaos all the same.

Scott was already across the yard and running into the woods, leaving Stiles behind. Stiles grabbed his coat from the closet by the door and considered running after him but knew it was futile. Instead, he made a beeline for his Jeep but before he made it Derek caught up to him and spun him around.

"Let me go, Derek," Stiles said between gritted teeth. Derek did but stayed close, practically pressed against him.

"Stiles, let me explain," Derek said, almost desperately.

 "You didn’t say no. You didn’t say you didn’t want Scott to join your pack," Stiles said, trying to keep his voice even.

"I couldn’t lie, Stiles. He’d know and it would be worse but I promise, Scott wasn’t the reason for this," Derek said, gesturing between them.

Stiles nodded. "Yeah, okay. But the thing is? I’m a human and have no idea if you’re lying or not. Sucks to be me. Bye Derek."

Derek didn’t stop Stiles this time and he got into the Jeep and drove away without looking back even though he really, really wanted to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I would be able to wrap this up in one part but it seems that I'll need a third in the near future.


	3. So pardon my manners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We're not together anymore." 
> 
> "What happened?"
> 
> Stiles frowned at his brother. "Since when do you care?"
> 
> Stuart blinked. "I _care_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was hoping to get this wrapped up in one more part but it seems the words have other plans. Written for the prompt "detention" from fullmoon_ficlet on LJ.

A month after New Year's Eve Scott tracked Stiles down in the library. He was stuck in a back corner, strategically behind some stacks so the librarian couldn't see him sneakily eat his lunch. He was scrolling through some random Wikipedia entries on his laptop, biding his time until noon hour ended when Scott approached the table.

"There you are," he said as he rubbed his nose. "The dust in here throws off your scent."

"That's the idea," Stiles replied cheerfully. From beyond the stacks the librarian hissed out, _shhhh_ and Scott ducked his head in reproach while Stiles just rolled his eyes.

Scott sat down across from Stiles. "You know he can just track your heartbeat, right?"

"What can I do for you, Scotty?" Stiles replied, glossing over what Scott was getting at.

Scott sighed but leaned in excitedly. "I need your help. I want to do something super special for Allison for Valentine's Day so I thought I'd put a scrapbook of memories together for her. Does that sound cool?"

Stiles smiled faintly. "Super cool, Scott."

***

New Year's Day Scott showed up on Stiles' front step, looking absolutely miserable. He felt bad for running away from Stiles and about Derek. Scott sat with him while Stiles ranted and fumed and angrily brushed away the stray tear. Scott ran to the store and came back with bags of junk food and canceled his plans with Allison to hang out with Stiles instead. 

It took Stuart a few days to realize something was wrong, though.

"Where's Hale?" he asked the last Friday before the next semester started when he found Stiles in the kitchen. He grabbed a glass from the cupboard and the juice from the fridge, filling it and taking a long drink.

Stiles didn't look up from the book he was reading at the table. "Presumably at his house."

"You don't know?" 

"We're not together anymore." Stuart put the glass down on the counter with a loud click and sat in front of Stiles at the table.

"What happened?"

Stiles frowned at his brother. "Since when do you care?"

Stuart blinked. "I _care_." Stiles gave him a look and Stuart made a face back. "Look, you quit seeing the most popular guy at Beacon Hills high, I mean... people are gonna talk. What should I tell them?"

Stiles pushed back from the table, taking his book with him as he left the room. "Tell your adoring fans 'no comment'," he threw back at his brother and left him alone in the kitchen.

***

"So here's the thing," Scott said as he trailed Stiles out of the library once the first bell rang for afternoon classes. "I don't really know what I'm doing or how to put a scrapbook together."

Stiles rolled his eyes but grinned. "Is this you asking me for help? Because you know I have a mean crafty side and can curl the hell out of a ribbon."

Scott grinned back. "You're the best, dude."

Stiles looked up then and it was like time slowed for a few seconds as they walked down the hall. Derek was walking toward them, on the way to his own class. 

They passed each other and Stiles stared Derek in the eyes, putting on his mask that he'd been valiantly wearing for the past month. Derek didn't back down and stared back, mouth set in a determined line. 

Stiles kept his eyes on Derek as they moved through each other's spaces, once so familiar but now estranged. 

Derek blinked first but Stiles didn't feel the thrill of victory.

Hadn't felt much in a while.

***

"Sure you don't want to come?" Stuart asked for the fifth time that afternoon. Stiles rolled his eyes and kept flipping through Scott's Instagram for pictures of Allison and him.

Stiles left the lacrosse team at the start of the semester, citing a heavier class load to the coach. Finstock didn't say much but mentioned he was sad to see Stiles go, especially now that he would have to dump on Greenberg all the time instead.

Stiles wasn't sure if that was a complaint because he liked Stiles or a diss because he liked Greenberg more. He figured he was better off not knowing.

"C'mon, Derek's gonna be there," Stu cajoled. For some reason his brother really wanted Stiles to go to a party at Jungle. The bar was hosting an all ages night for the lacrosse team so they could host a fundraising party, which was just a way of saying the lacrosse team was having a party where they only invited other popular people whose parents had money.

"That's okay. I already see him at school and ignore him, there's no need to do it at a party," Stiles replied, drawing a frustrated sigh from Stu.

Stiles looked up at his brother, making note of yet another instance of him coming off more upset about his breakup than Stiles perhaps was. "What's your deal?" Stiles asked, squinting at Stu.

Stuart shook his head and waved as he walked out of the room, ignoring Stiles' question. Stiles waited until the front door slammed shut as Stu left before returning to flipping through Scott's pictures again.

He was collecting various shots of Scott and Allison together or apart that would make for narrative pages in Scott's Valentine's Day extravaganza scrapbook. He was grabbing the best ones for Scott to get printed, then Stiles was going to lay out a couple pages of the book to get Scott started. He realized he was probably going to have to guide Scott through the whole thing but at least he'd be helping someone be happy for Valentine's Day.

Once Stiles finished looking through Scott and Allison's Instagrams he logged on to Facebook and poked around their friends' albums for the past few months. He jumped from album to album on various people's pages, saving a few for his own personal pictures that he didn't have. One of him and Scott at a lacrosse game, Erica giving the finger to Danny's camera, Isaac perhaps being legitimately strangled by his scarf... and if one happened to be of Stiles and Derek sitting next to each other in the cafeteria from a while back, well. It might have been stored away, too.

He made it to the New Year's Eve albums and considered passing by them but Scott and Allison had a good time at the party at the Hales', even if the next morning didn't end well. He and Derek were in a few pictures here and there but they didn't seem to be captured purposely for anyone's snaps. Stiles tried to remember if anyone asked to take their pictures but he couldn't recall anyone. But then again they escaped upstairs to Derek's room an hour or so before midnight and he was already at stroke-of-midnight photos in Boyd's album. 

Something occurred to Stiles and he sat back, trying to remember whose Facebook pictures made him confused. He searched back to Lydia's albums and found a picture of himself speaking with Laura behind a duck-lipped Lydia. He saved the image and checked the metadata on it, trying to recall speaking to Laura without Derek ever-present by his side all night.

He checked through some of the other pictures he'd already looked at and saw a few more that he didn't remember being in for about a half hour between quarter to eleven and midnight New Year's Eve. Stiles zoomed in on the pictures and really examined what "he" was wearing in the photos, pit of dread slowly starting to form in his stomach.

A suit was basically a suit thanks to the focus and quality of some of the pictures and Stiles couldn't tell his own black coat and pants from Stuart's. He searched more and more photos until he found the one where he could make out the clothing. 

Green vest underneath. 

Stuart's green dress vest. Stiles had a blue vest and Stuart got the green when they bought suits for the junior year formal. And Stiles didn't even wear his vest the night of the party at the Hale house when Stuart went to a party at the Whittemore's instead. 

Wearing his suit, complete with the green vest.

Stuart was there that night, for at least a half hour. Stuart was the one that spoke with Laura and how she got the idea that Scott was joining the pack. Stuart was acting weird around him because he was the reason all this bullshit started.

Stuart was the reason he and Derek broke up. 

Stiles put his head down on his hands, breathing deeply as he tried to calm down from being suddenly incredibly overwhelmed. He struggled to avoid slipping into panic as his mind rapidly fired memories of Derek and their scant interactions since the night of the party at him. Stiles felt worse and worse about how he treated Derek and how much he _hurt_ since then and every thought his mind screamed at him was about what a terrible person he was. 

He did it to himself. He believed something he should have gotten clarification on. He wasn't good enough for Derek, anyway. Someone else would have asked questions instead of believing what Laura said. He would have been loyal to his boyfriend. 

He wouldn't have trusted his brother.

Stiles let out a strangled gasp and felt the panic roll over him and he curled in on himself in a hard kitchen chair. He struggled for breath through his tears, his face buried into the side of his leg. He was still trying to even out his breathing and slow his racing heart almost ten minutes later when his father walked in the back door, home from his shift.

John didn't even take his gun belt off like usual when he took one look at Stiles and was across the room in a few steps. He crouched by Stiles' side and placed a gentle hand on Stiles' arm.

"Stiles, you just need to breathe," the Sheriff said calmly and slowly. "Look at my chest and breathe with me."

Stiles' eyes flicked over to watch his father, bloodshot and swollen behind his smudged lenses. The Sheriff made a show of breathing deeply and then exhaling slowly to bring Stiles down. Within a minute Stiles was carefully uncurling from his tight position. The Sheriff ran him a glass of water and made Stiles drink it slowly while he sank down into the chair beside him.

"Been a while since that's happened, huh?" John asked. Stiles nodded, feeling exhausted.

"What's wrong?" 

Stiles hesitated for a few moments before he gave up with a sigh. "I screwed up, dad. Stuart didn't help, and even kicked off this whole mess, but I was a big part of it too," Stiles said in a shaky tone.

"Does this have anything to do with Derek not being around anymore?" John asked and Stiles nodded miserably. "Why do you think Stuart is involved? Does he like Derek?"

Stiles snorted and shook his head. "No, Stuart's not into guys, as far as I know. He just... He said something he shouldn't have. Actually, it was something he doesn't know anything about."

John scratched the back of his neck. "Now that you know is it fixable?"

Stiles thought to the moments in the hallways when he and Derek would lock eyes and stare each other down. Stiles wasn't sure if Derek was challenging him or daring him to say something when they did that. They were together too brief a moment in time to fully figure Derek out and Stiles wasn't sure he succeeded. He liked thinking he had because on a lot of levels he and Derek _clicked_ , but then things got so confused. Stiles' mind was filled with the befores and afters of their current position and he didn't know if he recognized the right one any longer.

He shook his head at his dad. "I'm not sure. I don't think I know what I'm doing."

John chuckled lightly and clapped Stiles on the back. "Son, when it comes to relationships and romance no one is ever sure what they're doing. It's got nothing to do with what happened and more so with what you're _going_ to do."

"Did you and mom ever have stupid fights?" Stiles asked with his eyes cast low on the table.

"Sometimes. Your mom was really good at knowing what kind of mood I was in when I came home from work. Sometimes a particularly hard case would wall me off from her, but she knew how to break through to me. She could sense it and more often than not pulled me out of bad moods. I could see your mother in how you interacted with Derek."

John sighed softly. "I worked closely with the Hales when Peter was on the prowl. Talia was scared for her children but explained that she had to be an alpha and a leader first, not their mother. Laura's going to be a capable, strong alpha and will carry on the path her mother is currently making in the werewolf community. She was worried about Derek, though, because she knew he wasn't used to being in the spotlight. 

"When Peter was finally caught the scene was a mess. Talia took care of the punishment according to their law but the kids had to be kept in a secure location until everything was handled. I met with Derek while he was at the station and I remember thinking how much better your mother would have been with him. She knew the right thing to say in just about every situation. You don't have her tact, son, but you have her way of disarming people. I think that's why you work so well with Derek, you can talk to him."

Stiles looked down at his hands and blinked the prickle of tears out of his eyes. "He doesn't have any reason to trust me now," he mumbled.

John waved his hand, brushing away Stiles' words. "They're walking, talking lie detectors, Stiles. He'll know how genuine you are."

"And if I don't say anything? Just let it drop and we go our own ways?" Stiles asked.

John put his hand on Stiles' shoulder, making him look up at his father. "I've never known you to be a quitter, especially about things you really want. I can tell how hard this past month has been. I know you're stubborn but you can't ignore him forever, especially when you know why you're not happy. I'm willing to bet he's feeling much the same and, if he is, it's impressed and baffled me that he's given you as much space as you've had. You've either met your match in pig-headedness or —"

"Or he never really liked me," Stiles cut in, allowing the voices in his head get to him.

"Or he's as worried about getting hurt as you are," John finished softly.

Stiles thought back to their quiet and private conversations while they found quiet hallway corners at school or cuddled together on one of their beds under the guise of studying. Derek wasn't the one his family concerned themselves over between him and Laura. He was the overlooked one except when he was with Stiles. 

"Think about it, okay?" John broke through Stiles' thoughts. "I'm going to start supper."

Stiles nodded and drummed his fingers on the table as he thought about what his options were and what would make him happiest. Self-preservation versus fixing his broken heart and bruised ego.

***

It was easy enough for Stiles to avoid Stuart until the next day. He closed his door and turned out his light when Stuart came home and got a ride to school with Scott early the next morning before his brother was out of the shower. He ignored Stu's text asking why he left early and stayed away from his locker until lunch when he had to grab his gym clothes.

Unfortunately, Stuart was on to him.

"Hey." Stiles slammed his locker shut as his brother stepped up to him, having hidden at the end of the row of lockers.

Stiles took a measured breath before replying. "Hey." He turned to leave but Stuart followed him.

"What's up with you?" he asked, keeping up with Stiles even when he quickened his pace. 

"Nothing," Stiles replied, too fast.

"Bullshit. Come on, man. You can't hide from me forever," Stu said, nudging Stiles' shoulder. Stiles sped up again, determined now.

"I can try," Stiles gritted out, eyes set straight ahead. Other students around them dodged out of the way of the Stilinski twins as they barrelled through the hall. 

Stuart hurried ahead of Stiles and blocked access to the locker room. Stiles pushed his glasses up hurriedly, ducking his head to attempt to duck around Stuart but he was held back.

"Stiles, just tell me," Stuart pleaded and for a second Stiles felt bad for icing him out and not just talking to him head on.

Just a second, though.

"Let me through, Stuart," Stiles gritted out, adjusting his hold on his backpack and drawing himself to his full height against Stu's more defensive posture.

"You and I both know we can stand here for hours and not give in so why don't you save us both the time and effort, put on your big boy pants, and tell me what the hell is wrong, Stiles," Stuart shot back.

Stiles glared at his brother and then said between clenched teeth, "Laura Hale, New Year's Eve."

Stuart's eye twitched for a second, then Stiles saw the exact instant his brother realized he'd been found out. Stuart clenched his jaw, then collapsed a bit against the locker room door before straightening up. 

"Yeah, so?"

Stiles narrowed his eyes. "Did you go there pretending to be me, hoping our scents were too close for her to realize you weren't supposed to be there? That you weren't _me_?"

"You're friends with them!" Stuart exclaimed. "It comes so damn easily to you!"

Stiles shook his head, confused. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Being friends with them!" Stuart yelled. "You - you don't understand."

Stiles nodded. "You're right, I don't, Stu."

Suddenly the locker room door opened and Stuart stumbled back, catching his balance before he fell flat on his back. Stiles stepped up to the doorway and saw Jackson laughing and pointing at them. 

"You two are _pathetic_. Bilinski, if only you could smell the guilt coming off this one," Jackson gasped out while pointing at Stu. A couple other members of the weres' side of the team were leaning against their lockers watching amusedly.

"I'm so confused," Stiles said while shaking his head. Stu got close to Stiles so he could speak quietly in his ear.

"I thought that if Laura thought Scott said yes to being in the pack that she'd bring him in and he wouldn't say no since he was at the party, maybe feeling more benevolent towards the Hales finally. If Scott joined the pack I know you'd invited in through your connection as his best friend and Derek's boyfriend. If you joined, I could join too," Stuart got out in a rush, hoping his low volume and quick speaking would disguise his words.

"It's a good thing you're not bad at lacrosse because you definitely didn't get the brains, Stilinski," Jackson snorted behind them. 

"Ignore him, Stuart," Stiles instructed. "We'll talk about this later."

Stiles tried to urge Stuart to leave but Jackson was laughing even harder behind them.

"Stilinski I didn't think you were this much of a loser but I just realized that _you_ were jealous of your pathetic brother. You must feel like you're flatlining if _that's_ what you're struggling so desperately to achieve."

Stuart moved to step up to Jackson but Stiles pulled him back and shoved him out of the locker room. "You were just leaving and we'll talk about this _later_ ," Stiles said to Stuart and then shoved the door closed. 

Stiles turned and started walking to his locker but Jackson moved slightly into his path. Stiles didn't bother moving and shoved his shoulder against Jackson's chest as he brushed past the team captain, making Jackson stumble backwards. Jackson surged forward, pinning Stiles to a bank of lockers, fangs threatening to pop out.

"You want to have a problem with me? _Have it with **me**_ ," Stiles snapped at Jackson, shoving him to get him to ease up. 

"Your brother fucked up getting Scott into the pack," Jackson snarled. Stiles blinked.

"Why do you care if Scott is in the pack? I'd think you wouldn't want another beta competing for attention at the Hale house, seeing as I know how desperate you are to suck their collective dick," Stiles spat back.

Jackson's eyes turned a dangerously light shade of green and Stiles was sure he could see Jackson's sideburns start to thicken and lengthen.

"They're not _complete_ ," Jackson blurted out, then winced as though he knew that was something he wasn't supposed to say.

Stiles' eyebrows shot up as he made the connections. Jackson was adopted, a fact made available to the public once the investigation into Peter's rampage was closed and vague descriptions of both Jackson and Scott were given to the media while their names were never released. Only those in Beacon Hills knew who the new weres were and all citizens were loyal to the Hale pack and so would never breathe a word about their identities. 

Jackson willingly accepted Talia Hale's offer to come to her pack after Peter was killed, thus severing Jackson and Scott's bonds with him. But Scott chose to declare omega, effectively shutting him off from his potential pack ... and one that existed via a batshit, flash-in-the-pan alpha (that worked on a couple levels since he was cremated after he was killed and Stiles got distracted for a second marvelling at the morbid symmetry of it).

Scott found his own pack, of sorts, a chosen pack that only included Stiles and their parents and, probably now, Allison. Jackson latched on to the one thing he knew would feel like family, and maybe for the first time the closest thing he knew of to a biological connection. For someone as desperate for approval and acceptance as Jackson that probably felt like a shot of adrenaline.

Once Jackson accepted Talia's offer to join the pack she could feel what he was thinking and realized the Hales would never be complete without Jackson's full commitment and, in turn, he wouldn't be without Scott. What was that old adage about only being as strong as your weakest teammate? Made sense to make sure Jackson wasn't a weak spot. 

"Look," Stiles started while shoving at him again to get him to back off. "I don't care what your daddy issues are, or what you _hope_ they'd be but—"

Stiles had to duck back suddenly because Jackson snapped at him, quite literally, with is fangs out and eyes rapidly changing to a deep yellow.

"Hey hey!" Someone yelled and the sharp shrill tone of a whistle blasted out. Stiles looked up and saw Coach Finstock standing in the doorway, finger pointed at Jackson while he raised the whistle to his lips again.

Jackson backed off Stiles and forced his shift back but Stiles could tell it was difficult for him to rein it in. Jackson shot him a withering glare and Stiles brushed off their encounter with a wide grin.

"Get changed, you deviants," Finstock said loudly, giving Stiles and Jackson the stink eye before going to his office.

***

Since quitting the lacrosse team Stiles wanted to take up something to help burn off energy in the game's absence. He started jogging while he waited to come up with a different sport but realized he sort of loved running. He hated it at first because his lungs screamed at him and he wheezed for a good hour after he finished a workout. He found that focusing on the smooth swing of his arms and getting a rhythm established in time with the _swish swish_ of his clothes as they rasped, drifted or slipped back and forth helped distract his mind and listen more to his body.

The runner's high was incredible and all Stiles needed in his arsenal by this point. And so, he'd established a good beat as he ran, trying to listen to the sounds his body made as it moved him across the land. He'd feel downright _granola_ if he ever admitted that out loud, though. 

He was at a good pace and concentrating hard when suddenly he wasn't mobile and instead went skidding across the rocky ground, covered in a thin layer of pine needles so they jabbed into Stiles through his clothes. Stiles flipped over quickly when he finished skidding, unsure if he was under attack for any reason or if a creature was trying to make a meal out of him. 

Jackson jogged by slowly then, snorting at Stiles who was digging his fingers into the ground so he wouldn't try to chase him down. A couple other joggers stopped instead and helped Stiles to his feet. He opted to head back to the locker room instead of trying to complete the course, feeling the pine needles poke him sharply in the knees as dozens of tiny stinging nettles repeatedly being dug under his skin.

Stiles made it back to the school in about ten minutes. He hadn't noticed Finstock when he came out of the walking path entrance near the school but he might have followed some of the stragglers on their way around the course. Stiles looked at it as an opportunity to have the locker room in a relative moment of peace without the weres glancing at his sure-to-be bleeding legs as he gingerly tried to clean and bandage them.

Stiles let himself into the locker room and stripped his shirt over his head as he walked in. One second he was on a straight path to his locker, the next thing he knew he was pressed up against the mirrors on the opposite side of the room.

"What the _fuck_ ," Stiles yelled, his words muffled against the glass surface. Jackson tightened his grip around Stiles' neck, shoving him against the mirror so hard that Stiles was scared it would crack against his face. 

Stiles arched his back, trying to press against Jackson and push him enough to catch him off guard. That seemed to be what Jackson thought and planted himself, giving Stiles a chance to swing his elbow sharply, boxing Jackson right in the mid-rib. It jostled him so Stiles could drop to the floor and roll away from him.

Jackson tried to stumble after him but Stiles was ready and kicked Jackson's legs out from under him. Stiles was on top of him in an instant, punching him square in the nose. Stiles didn't hear anything crunch but almost immediately there was a drip of blood down Jackson's face that progressed to a trickle. Jackson didn't care; he kicked Stiles off of him and tried to pin him down the same way Stiles did to him. Stiles fought back and managed to get his legs under him so he could use height to his advantage. 

Jackson was about to lunge at Stiles again but Finstock and half the gym class arrived at the door, with Finstock already blowing the damn whistle. He pushed into the room, followed by Mr Harris who totally pushed a couple students out of the way in order to barge into the locker room and act high and mighty over something.

He looked on at Stiles, who was still crouched near the sinks and at Jackson, who was in a ball and leaning against a bay of lockers and smirked at Stiles. "Looks like I'll be seeing you in detention this afternoon," Harris said with a sarcastically pleased tone.

Stiles raised his eyebrows sharply. "Are you serious right now? He attacked _me_."

"I saw you punch Mr Whittemore in the nose, Mr Stilinski," Harris said dismissively.

"Because _he attacked me_ ," Stiles insisted.

"Who looks attacked right now?" Harris asked, casting a pitied look at Jackson.

Stiles' mouth dropped open in outrage. "I am telling y—"

"Bilinski's right," Coach Finstock piped up. "Whittemore went after him before class started."

Stiles never wanted to fight to be Coach's favorite until that moment when he got to watch Harris' face get scrunched up and tight. "Fine then," Harris said. He turned to Jackson who was just getting into a standing position. " _Both_ of you, in my lab after school for detention."

Jackson looked over at Stiles with vicious hate in his eyes but Stiles felt like he was taking one for his own team, a team of one, and grinned back.


End file.
